You Left
by countrygirls86
Summary: The air around them floated about with a chilly misty feeling, adding to the pressure on their stiff, tense bodies. Even the few trees in the distance had frozen from the sadness.
1. Chapter 1

It was sixty-three degrees on this November day in Houston, Texas, and the weather seemed to mirror their spirits. The same dull shade of gray surrounded the small group of people as they all walked slowly to the freshly dug hole. Tall, short, wide, flat stones spotted the fading green field with the cold, ugly color. The air around them floated about with a chilly misty feeling, adding to the pressure on their stiff, tense bodies. Even the few trees in the distance had frozen from the sadness. Everyone watched as the long beautiful black box was lowered into the freshly dug hole. Most were numb, and all were crying. Even the strong redhead could not hold back the tiny, salty water droplets from slipping down her pale cheeks. Eyes were focused downwards, emotions shooting in every direction. Overwhelmed from the many questions left without answers. Sorrow for the missing part of their lives. Anger at the gone for leaving so soon. Disappointment in themselves for not being there to help or to stop it from happening. They had already said their goodbyes at the service, but what use was it when the person they love so dearly had already left them?

A thirty-seven year old blonde held her head up with her folded hands and leaned into her husband's embrace. They had been married for twenty years last month, and throughout those years had three beautiful children. Each one had their own special relationship with their grandpa. Elizabeth, nineteen years old and just entering college, was his first grandchild, and as a result was spoiled rotten by him. Ryan, thirteen and enjoying his last year of junior high, had weekly trips to the football fields for extra practice with his father and grandpa. Laura, eight and in love with dance, had learned a few dances from him, which had sparked the fire with the very first step. How would her kids get used to that part of their lives being different? How would she take care of them and make sure they understood what was going on? They were older but still so so young. Their grandpa was a big part of their lives, and now an emptiness would take his place. How did you deal with that? What did they do now? She knew they were hurting. Everyone was hurting. She sighed, her lips trembling with the miserable feeling her body and mind had trapped her in. Her brown eyes darkened with the loss of her father. She had been Daddy's Little Girl her whole life, and now he was gone. She wasn't a little girl anymore, and now she didn't even have a daddy to pretend with. When would she feel safe and comfortable again? The one man who she had trusted to always be there was now being lowered into the ground, unwillingly sleeping forever in a box. Silently and unknowingly to others, her husband, Van, used her as support.

He needed her there, under his arm, to remind himself he was not alone. He was not the last one on Earth to be a part of this man's life. A better father than his own, his father-in-law had taught him everything he knew. He had been so protective of their family, and the young man knew it was now his job. He had to take care of all those around him. He had to be there for his wife and children in more ways than the older man had done. He knew the shoes he had to fill were huge, but he did have big feet. Maybe he could do it. He glanced down at his youngest children, who stood in front of him and their mother, to check on them. To make sure they didn't need him. Looking back to the coffin, he sighed and thought about all the time he had spent with this father-in-law. Watching bra commercials when there wasn't anything else to do and watching football on Thanksgiving didn't seem as appealing as it always had. They just wouldn't be as fun without his father-in-law. Weekend games of golf would not be the same without the stories of the older man's life. He would continue to golf though. Golfing would be this family's traditional game on Saturdays. Then, on those days, the man would be right there with them, commenting on how good their swings were and cheering when someone made a good score. He kissed the side of Cheyenne's head, hoping to bring her a little more comfort. Who would he go to for help when he made this beautiful woman mad? His father-in-law always had ideas for him. He was always there when he needed him, just like a father should be. He had always and would always love the man as if he was his own father. He would miss him for the rest of his life.

Being known around the world for her music, the thirty-two year old redheaded mother of two and loving wife for seven years stood strong next to her sister with both hands tightly holding onto her mother's left hand. She pulled her strength from the one woman she knew carried plenty of it around. Her husband, Wayde, stood behind her, knowing what she needed now was her space and her mother. When they got back to the house, she would spend the entire night writing number one hits, and that would be when she needed his shoulder to cry on and his arms to hold her. She may not have known her father as well as the others, but their relationship was one of the two most important to her. She still needed her father to be around. Her four year old twins, Vincent and Ashlyn, still needed him to be their grandpa. Her eyes blinked quickly, holding back as many of the tears as possible. Her father had left too soon. He would miss out on so much. Her children would miss out on knowing their grandpa. She swallowed the lump in her throat, looking down to her hands. Her father had made it to every important moment of her career. He had even bought enough of her first album to give out to all his patients, which probably helped her out a lot that year. He had been so supportive of her every move, wheither it was personal or professional. He had been there with her, cheering her on. She would tell her kids stories, and they would be glorious of his name. He would never be forgotten.

Two years into his marriage with a twelve month old baby, the twenty six year old brunette man held his mother's right hand, telling himself it was for not only his sake but her's as well. He would learn to always make time for his kids exactly like his dad had done. His father had always found the time to spend with him, but now he was left with all the time in the world. He would have gladly given up some of that time to have his dad back for a least a few more years. He wanted to go fishing and take men only camping trips. A tradition they had promised to start once his son, Matthew, was a few years older, and his wife, Jennifer, could handle him for a weekend by herself. A trip that the younger boys would have had to earn. Who did he do that with now? His brother-in-law? It wouldn't be the same. Now, who's house were they going to play poker at on Friday nights? Who's house would be the one the men went to when they were kicked out of their own by their wives? Who's house would be the next one with a pool? He didn't know, and at this point just wanted his father to be standing next to him. Anywhere but in that box. He didn't even get the chance to go to his father for help like Van had been able to do. He wanted that. He wanted his father to show him the tricks of golf he had yet to master. He wanted to get to know the side of his dad he wouldn't have seen until a few years later. Why did he have to go so soon? No one was ready, and Jake knew it would take forever to recover from his death.

The oldest blonde, fifty to be exact, could feel her whole body shaking slightly with the tears. She held her nineteen year old son's hand gently, glad he was leaning on her shoulder. She needed him there to prove she still had some control over herself. It may have been twelve years since she divorced the tan man with bird legs, but she still felt the loss of a husband. Someone she had spent most of her time with and told plenty of her secrets to. She had lost a man who was very special to her. He showed her what it was like to be so committed to one person. He gave her their son, and for that she would always love him. She took a deep breath, and dared a quick glance at her best friend. It caused her more pain. Reba had been the closest to him. She would not even try to imagine what her friend was going through. Instead, Barbra Jean would focus on her son and helping him through college.

His favorite redhead, coming up to her sixtieth birthday, took deep calming breaths as she watched the love of her life for forty years disappear. Forever to be gone. She stood tall and strong, every inch of her portraying control and strength. All of her, but the tears slipping away from her eyes so freely and fast that she did not bother to wipe them away. Why should she wipe them away? Only more would come to fight the battle. She tuned out the words of the preacher, forcing the man in the coffin to jump out with his beautiful cocky smile and shining blue eyes. Oh, how she would miss that smile and those eyes. How did she go on without him by her side? Of course they weren't married anymore and hadn't been for twenty years, but he had always been there. When she needed someone, he knew just what to do. How did she move on now with him gone? She may have been the stronger of the two to many around them, but even the stronger ones needed a pillar to stand on. And that was exactly what the man was. Her pillar to keep her far out of harm's reach. She had missed him the instant she knew he was gone, and it had only intensified with every passing second. She had prayed it was all a joke so, she could yell at him for being such a jerk, and then tell him how much she loved him. She prayed for anything but what was in front of her now. They were suppose to grow old together. He was suppose to be jealous every time she thought she'd found Mr. Right. He was suppose to protect her and keep her alive. She needed him here to feel safe again. She would never love anyone as much as she did that man, and in her heart, they were still married. They always would be. He was her everything. He had given her everything she had ever asked for. Three beautiful kids, a big house, a wonderful marriage, love to last a lifetime. Everything she could have dreamed of when she was her daughters' ages, but now what she dreamed of more than anything he wouldn't be able to give her. She wanted to be back in his arms, to feel him kiss the top of her head while watching the ten o'clock news, to make love to him just one more time. She needed him. No one, not even she, knew how much that would be. She could only imagine how hard the rest of her life would be like now. Could she overcome this? She didn't think so. Her heart was being buried with the man in the black box before her eyes. Didn't you need a heart to live? She watched, unblinkingly, as the top of the coffin finally disappeared. She was losing everything. Even her control.

Reba pulled her hands away from her youngest children, and started to run the few steps it would take to get to the coffin. Her tears her only lifeline now. Van was quick on her heels, and managed to grab her before she slid into the hole. He held her close to his body, trying his hardest to keep her from rolling out of his arms and over the side. With her lower legs hanging over the side and rubbing against the dirt, Reba fought against Van for only a few minutes before her strength shot away from her. She gripped loosly onto his black jacket with one hand, and covered her face with the other as he pulled her into his lap. The tears forced her stomach to clench and release to the point of pain, and her throat formed screams so loud Van was sure he'd be deaf by the time she calmed down. He pressed her face into his chest, hoping it would help. He closed his eyes, holding onto her as tightly as he could. He didn't know what else to do, but listen to her screams for Brock to come back _to_ her. To come back _for_ her. For anything but this.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been five months since that horrible wicked day, and she still dreamed about it as vividly as the day itself. Reba pulled herself out of bed, the covers starting to suffocate her. She walked around her room, her mind blank. It seemed to be all she did anymore, walking around anywhere she could. Her sleep schedule was completely off thanks to her nightmares. At least this time Brock hadn't come back to her. She hated those dreams the worst. Every time she would wake up only to find he was dead again. She started a bath, making the water as cold as she could. Hot water didn't seem to have the same effects like it had before. She took her time taking off her pajamas. The scar over her heart almost blended in with the rest of her body, but she knew it was there which helped to bring out it's form. She closed her eyes, feeling the rebellious first tear slide along her nose and down her cheek into the corner of her lips. She ran her finger tips lightly over her scar, trying to fight off the memories of the accident. She couldn't bare to remember anymore. Reba opened her eyes, and jumped at the man next to her in the mirror. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he smiled at her. She smiled back and then he was gone. He was there in every mirror, puddle, thought, dream. He would not leave her alone, and a part of her was glad. She didn't want to forget what he looked like, forget what it was like to have him there. She loved him too much to do such a thing. "Come back for me, Brock. I need you." She whispered into the mirror. When nothing happened after a few seconds, her eyes glanced at the scar again. She wished it could all be that easy. She turned away from the mirror, watching the water fill to the top before climbing in. She closed her eyes, letting the water freeze her body as she slipped completely underneath it. With her mind still focused on her scar, she had no choice but to replay the accident. The accident that cost her everything.

_"Reba Hart, you get back here! I am not done discussing this!" Brock stormed after her, knowing she wouldn't turn around or stop. He would have to chase after her. Reba rolled her eyes at her ex-husband. Who cared what he wanted to talk about? She wasn't in the mood for one of his stupid little excuses. She marched all the way to the front doors of the restaurant before Brock caught up to her. "Why must you insist on being so damn stubborn?" He kept a loose grip on her arm, letting go when she yanked it away. _

_"Because you insist on being so damn stupid!" Reba pushed the front door open, groaning at the pouring rain. She couldn't believe she'd have to run out in this. "Don't forget to drop Elizabeth off at her friend's house. It's the one that lives a block away from you. Ok?" Brock rolled his eyes, pulling her back to him before she could step outside._

_"Will you quit babying me for once, and try talking to me like an adult! Now, why would you tell Barbra Jean I'm moving to San Antonio? You know I didn't want her to find out, yet." Reba took a deep breath, searching his eyes quickly before looking away. Brock waited for her answer, watching her every move. He had to be ready in case she darted for the door again._

_"Because she's part of the family! She deserves to know before the last minute. Ok? Plus, I thought she could help me talk you out of it." Reba blushed slightly and looked down to her feet. _

_"Why on Earth would you want to talk me out of it?" _

_"The kids need you here!" Reba blurted out before he could say another word. She was tired of talking about this. He would eventually get to the bottom of things and find out her real reason of telling Barbra Jean. She knew the blonde could be annoying, and she had wanted to use that to her advantage. Feed the blonde the words she would need in order to convince Brock to stay, and then no one would know she couldn't think about having him so far away from her. The truth was she needed him by her side._

_"The kids still have me, Reba! Besides that, they have you. You help them out way more than I do. So, why do I have to stay in Houston?" Brock watched her face as she searched for an answer. She glanced at him, placed her hand on the door again, and shrugged her shoulders. _

_"I don't know, Brock. I just...have to go." She walked away from him, instantly being drowned by the rain. Brock ran after her, stopping when he got to her side. "What are you doing?! Go back inside!" Reba took a few steps away from him, the cars barely viewable. She squinted her eyes not only to keep the rain out, but to see the cars around her better. _

_"Do you even know where you parked? I can't see a dang thing out here. Why don't you give me your keys, go back inside, and I'll find your car." Reba shook her head, but Brock didn't notice. They could barely hear each other as they argued over who should go back inside to wait with the rest of the family._

_"I found it, Brock!" Reba yelled as loudly as she could over her shoulder, hoping he would hear her. She quickly jumped inside the driver side, slamming the door shut as the passenger door opened. Brock sat down, slamming his door also. "Man, it's really pouring out there. I hope everyone makes it home ok." Reba started her car, turning on the heat. Brock didn't respond. He wasn't in the mood for small, happy talk. He had to know why she would be so upset about him moving when seventeen years ago she was estatic about the same move, and using the kids as an excuse wouldn't work anymore. They had all grown up._

_"Reba, I need to know." He turned towards her, a serious look on his face. Reba avoided looking at him, immediately regretting not just locking the doors and making him walk back to the restaurant._

_"No, you don't. I've already told you why you can't leave. Can you not just leave it at that?" Reba used the same technique she had always used when people were getting close to busting her. She got mad. "What does it matter what I think anyways? I already told you I didn't think it was a good idea, and you still decided to move. I mean, I'm the ex-wife as in excuse me get out of my car." She stared out the front window, watching the only thing she could. The rain. Brock took a deep breath, crossed his arms over his chest, and shook his head no._

_"Why do you always have to get mad? It's getting a little old, Reba." Reba glanced down to her hands, which rested in her lap, before shooting him one of her famous glares. _

_"You're getting a little old." He rolled his eyes, sighing out of frustration. "Always having to cause some type of trouble. You just can't get that little apartment I told you about. You just have to move four hours away! So far away that if something happened it would take you forever to get back! Or worse, Brock, it could take us days to find out something happened to you! I just don't want the kids to go through that. If something horrible happened to you, they don't deserve to feel like it was their fault for not getting there on time!" The car was silent as they both let her words sink in. She hadn't thought of that until now and wanted to be proud of herself, but she couldn't with the realization that something could happen. No matter where he was something could happen. Brock cleared his throat._

_"Do you mean the kids...or you?" Reba closed her eyes, taking deep calming breaths. Why did he have to know her so well?_

_"To a point, yes. Now, please, will you go? I need to get home." Brock thought for a moment, wanting to ignore the whimper in her voice. He wanted to leave her alone like she was asking, but there was just too much of him that could not leave her. He knew he'd never be able to move, and the fact she was fighting so hard for him to stay intrigued him._

_"Are you sure you want to drive in this stuff? It doesn't look like it's gonna let up anytime soon." Reba swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding her head yes. "I think I should go with you. It's not safe driving in this by yourself." Brock reached for his seatbelt, and Reba followed his lead. He wasn't planning on letting her go home alone. She had known that from the second he followed her to the door. Why did she have to know him so well? Reba took a deep breath, pulling out of the parking space. When she almost hit the car in the space behind her, Brock told her to let him drive. She quickly switched places with him, and they drove slowly to her house. _

_"Brock, I can't see a thing. How do you know where you're going...or where you're at for that matter?" Reba tried listening for anything dangerous, but all she could hear was the rain hitting the hood of the car._

_"It's ok, Reba. Just be quiet. I can't concentrate if you keep asking me the same questions." She folded her arms over her chest, and look towards the stoplight. It was green, and she tensed when Brock drove through it. Just like she had done the past three. "We're almost home. Don't worry. It's just one more stoplight...then four blocks before we're at your house. I'll get you there safe and sound. Just like you were when..." Just then a big truck ran the stoplight, crashing into the driver side. Both adults were tossed around as the car was pushed several feet. Brock was never able to finsih his sentence, and Reba would never get to tell him that she knew he would. They were lost to each other. Within the next hour the storm let up and they were all rushed to the hospital. Reba was able to leave with only a slightly deep cut on her chest and a few bruises, but Brock wasn't as lucky. He had died on the way to the hospital._

They had spent their last day together arguing over something so stupid. A part of her was glad she had been the last thing he was looking at when that car ran into them, but the other part hated that she had not told him she loved him when he had asked. Maybe they wouldn't have left the parking lot until the next morning. Or maybe he would have gone back inside and she could have just sat in her car until the storm cleared. But of course things had gone much differently. He had spent his last few minutes trying to keep her safe, and he had done that, just like he always had. The only thing left of that night was the scar. She placed her hand over it, feeling it underneath her fingers once again. She would never forget the words that would have ended his sentence..._you left_... Simple words that hurt her every time they were used. Reba cleared her mind, focusing on the water around her instead of that horrible night. How much longer until she was able to laugh again? When could she turn on a song and not cry? The one thing she knew though, the only thing she didn't have to question anymore, was she had found the place that made her feel so close to him again. Where ever there was water she swore she could feel his arms wrap around her. When she was under the water, like now, she could feel him there with her. Whenever it rained if she went outside he was there with her. She chalked it up to her imagination, but still a part of her believed it was really him, looking out for her even in death. Pushing out of the water, she took a deep breath. When would she be able to hold her breath for at least a few minutes longer? She looked upwards, wishing for him to come back. She missed talking with him, fighting with him, playing games with him, being able to touch him. She just missed him period. She closed her eyes, going back under the water.


	3. Chapter 3

Ten months had now past, and still Reba was in the same place as she had been that day. Her family seemed so far ahead of her in moving on. They were enjoying life just a little more, but she still couldn't find any joy. Her children had all tried to cheer her up, even asked her to go to counseling with them, but she had declined. There was no point in spending that much money on hearing something she already knew. She watched the streets go by as she sat in the back seat of Cheyenne's car. They were on their way to visit Brock's gravesite, and she knew, just like all the other times, it would break her. Maybe she should quit going. It did her no good, but at the same time she wouldn't give it up for anything. Cheyenne watched her mother through the the rearview mirror. She hated being the one to take her mother, but with Kyra on tour and Jake taking care of his son, she was the only one left. Barbra Jean refused to come back.

"Mom, you sure you feel up to this today?" Cheyenne hoped she'd get a voiced response, but doubt she would. Reba didn't talk much anymore, and when she did it wasn't a lot. She had been so unlike herself lately. It left them all worried about her. They always made sure someone was checking in on her, and she wasn't left alone for too long of a time. Reba never seemed to notice how much time they spent with her. She was still lost. Reba nodded her head, her eyes never leaving the buildings flying past her. Cheyenne glanced at Van, asking him to try again. Van sighed, taking a moment to think.

"Uh, Laura made the cut for her school's first musical. She wanted to tell you herself so I didn't say anything to you when she calls, ok?" Reba gave him a silent ok without much feeling behind it. She turned her head to face him. Van turned around to stare at her, hoping he could find something to cheer her up. "Ryan made the football team again this year. He has a game this Friday if you want to come. He'd really love to see you there." Reba gave him a weak smile, and Van almost thought she would give him something to work with. She nodded her head, and promised to be there. Still, she didn't sound convincing. Van turned back around just in time to read the name of the cemetery. He sighed again, begging his brain to think of something.

"Have y'all talked to Kyra lately? Do you know how the tour's goin'?" Reba's voice was dry and low, but at least she was attempting a conversation. Cheyenne took a deep breath, holding back the small smile. She sent a quick prayer for her mother as Van told her about Kyra. Cheyenne stopped the car as she watched Reba intently. Her mother kept her eyes on the back of Van's head, her bottom lip already trembling from the pain. Cheyenne opened her door, always being the first one to leave the car. Reba waited in her spot for Cheyenne and Van to pay their respects before slowly and numbly walking over to the cold, grey stone. She sat down with her legs folded underneath her, and set the photo album she had brought with her to the side. She let her eyes cloud over with tears as she read his headstone.

Brock Enroll Hart

Brilliant Man,

Loving Father,

Exceptional Friend

_Jan. 20, 1958 - Nov. 29, 2021_

She leaned over, kissed his name, then slowly sat back up. She took a deep breath, feeling the tears and her lashes battling against each other. She licked her lips as she reached for the photo album. Flipping through the pages, she ignored the stab each picture brought with it. All they did was bring back the memories she wouldn't dare to remember at this moment. She needed her strength today. Stopping on the page with the three pictures she'd need, she reached into her jacket pocket for three white stones engraved with small black words. Reba took another breath as she looked over her wedding picture. They were both so different then. She had big curly hair, and he had a mustache. She smiled sweetly at the picture, letting the day play itself through her mind. This picture was the first big symbol of their love for each other. It was the best day of her life, and she wished she could relive it. Knowing it could never happen, she would settle with praying to never forget it. She set the picture down on the lower left corner of his headstone, searched quickly through the stones for the one she wanted, and placed it on top of the picture. Love had never been written so pretty before, and she had to run her fingers over the letters just one more time. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand flat against the grass, whispering her deepest secret to the ground. She loved him. What else was there left for her to say? Going back to the album, she fished out the second picture. One of many she and Brock had taken during their trip to Italy. He had finally surprised her with it on her fifty birthday. She closed her eyes, waiting for the tears to calm down before opening them again. She picked up the rock marked with the word _cherish_ and the picture. Before placing them in their rightful spot next to the first picture, she ran her eyes over every detail. Brock was leaning against a building with his arms wrapped around her in a playful manner, and she had rested her head on his shoulder with her own arms crossed over his. They had been laughing over the joke he had whispered in her ear about the man taking their picture. She had been smiling that whole trip, making Brock chuckle every time he looked at her. Reba sighed away the memory as she set the picture down. It was his favorite, and she wouldn't keep it to herself any longer. Making sure the stone would hold the picture, she thanked him once again for such a beauiful gift. The last picture, equally as important as the other two, was taken five years ago during Christmas. Barbra Jean had misletoed the house to death, and for some odd reason Brock and Reba were the only ones to accidentally stand underneath one. Van had snapped the picture after the third time, and for the next few months he was deteremined to make fun of them. He constantly said they would end up back together before the next Christmas. It hadn't happened, and she remembered feeling just a little bit disappointed that year. Reba sighed again, wishing for that Christmas back. She would gladly go through the embarassment of her family watching just to hold him and kiss him again. She would do it just to have him back. She took a deep breath, holding it as she read over the last stone. Hope was written across it. She had found it perfect for this picture. Everything she had and would hope for was frozen in the last picture. She hoped they would be together again soon. Setting the objects where they belonged and tossing the photo album to the side, Reba let out the breath she was holding. Nothing seemed to help with the pulling in her chest and closing of her throat. Deep breaths and sighs were a waist of her time and energy, but what else could she do? She wouldn't cry in front of Van and Cheyenne. Not again. She lowered her eyes to the ground, collecting what she could of her thoughts.

"Oh, Brock...how much longer? I don't know how much more I can take of this...a life without you..I could never imagine that, not even when we got divorced. The kids don't need me...They're all grown up, remember? Barbra Jean's got Henry...and several friends from the weather station...See? They all have someone to be their best friend...but, Brock, you were mine, and I just don't know how many more times I can keep wishing you were here with me. I just...I...oh, Brock, I need you. Don't you see that? Can you even hear me? I love you so much, and going on without you...just seems so impossible." She kept her eyes on the ground as she spoke, not wanting to see the pictures before her. They were for him now, and she knew if she looked at them again all her control would be lost. Closing her eyes, she lifted her head to the sky. Slowly opening them, she smiled sadly and prayed he was able to see and hear her. She wanted to be with him again, no matter which way it had to be. "Please, Brock, come back for me...I need you...I love y-you." Her throat closed shut and her chest pulled tighter than before. She knew what was coming next. Months and months of constant crying prepared her for this. Along with the pouring rain, her tears soaked her cheeks, and being drowned out by the thunder, her sobs sent her body to the ground. Her head now rested where his chest would be, and she laid curled up in a little ball. She closed her eyes, the tears still pouring out of her, as she prayed to feel his arms wrap around her again.

Cheyenne pushed herself away from the hood of the car, starting to walk towards her mother, but Van stopped her. He pulled her to his body instead, knowing this would help his mother-in-law much more than it would hurt her. At least, it's what he hoped would happen. Cheyenne wrapped her arms around Van, watching her mother cry into the muddy grass. She had done this every time, but it still tugged at her heart. How much longer did her mother have to go through with this? Why couldn't the woman be happy again? Van and Cheyenne quickly climbed into their car, waiting on Reba to join them. When hours had past and darkness had fallen, Van ventured towards his mother-in-law. He hadn't expected her to stay on the ground all day. Both he and Cheyenne had wanted to comfort her, but they knew she wouldn't want them right now. She needed something much more than either of them could give her. Noticing that she was asleep, Van gently picked her up and carried her to the car. She was completely soaked and muddy. They needed to get her home, changed in dry warm clothes, and tucked securely into bed. Cheyenne started the car, turned the heat all the way up, and left the cemetery once again, already dreading their next visit.

Eleven months after that terrible day, Reba found herself feeling worse than ever before. Nothing could keep her attention for longer than two minutes, and she had stopped caring who saw her cry. She just walked around her house, letting the tears come and go as they pleased. The only times she tried to control herself were when her grandchildren were over, but even then it was hard not to break down. She couldn't do anything without thinking of him, and it left her with an ache in her chest so powerful that she had to keep moving in order to ignore it. Reba sighed as she laid down on the couch, too tired to keep moving. She needed a little nap at the least. The tears had stopped a few minutes ago, leaving her eyes to hurt and swell. She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, and tried to think of happy things. Something Barbra Jean had suggested she do to keep the bad thoughts away. She was home alone for the time being, and the house had an awful silence to it. Reba let her mind wonder to where ever it wanted to go, and drifted to sleep with a smile on her face as she remembered her Italy vacation again.

An hour later, there was a knock on the front door. Reba sat up, wondering when she had changed clothes. She quickly glanced over the shiny white dress and light blue see through robe. She had to admit it was beautiful. Remembering someone was at her door, she quickly walked to it and opened it slowly. Her eyes traveled from the man's toes to his eyes, and her heart skipped several beats. Standing there in front of her was the man she had been dying to see for the past eleven months. Reba smiled from ear to ear when he gave her his cocky grin. He quickly put on a serious face and finally finished his sentence.

"You left." Reba closed her eyes, holding back her tears once again. She took a deep breath, tossing herself at him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she laughed shortly. Brock breathed in her scent, so happy he could be with her again.

"I knew you would, Brock. I always knew you would get me home safe and sound just like I was when I left." She sighed, but this time it was because she was happy. She couldn't feel the pain in her chest anymore, her thoughts were finally flowing at a normal pace, and she could see clearly again. "But why? How?" She pulled away from Brock, but still stood close enough to him for his arms to remain around her waist.

"Well, you just couldn't take anymore. You gave up." Brock paused when he noticed the puzzled look on her face as she ran her eyes over his white suit and took in his words. "Honey, you died of a broken heart." He paused again, waiting on her response. Reba lifted her eyes to his before glancing over her shoulder into her house. She took in a deep shocked breath at her body still lying on the couch. When she turned back around, she was confused. "I guess all those years of you telling me I was gonna be the death of you...you weren't joking, huh?" Brock smiled at her when she rolled her eyes at him. He had her back, and he couldn't help but be happy. He just wished it hadn't happened like it had.

"I still don't understand, Brock. You can't die of a broken heart, can you?" He nodded his head, waiting for it to sink in. Reba thought about it for a little longer, finally accepting the fact she wouldn't have been happy anyways. At least now, she could be with her best friend again. They could talk, laugh, play, fight, anything they wanted to do. She smiled at that thought, knowing her family would be ok without her. She didn't need to know anything else. She was finally happy again, and if she had to die for that to happen then she could accept that. Reba looked back up to Brock, placing her hands on his cheeks. "I missed you so much." Brock smiled just a bit bigger.

"I know. I heard you. I missed you more though." Reba shook her head, stepping closer to him. "What? You don't think I did? Honey, I missed you more than a year's worth of free golf." Reba chuckled, as she let her arms wrap around his neck again. Brock suddenly turned serious. "I'm so sorry I put you through that, Reba. I didn't want to, but you are one stubborn woman." Reba smiled at him, quickly reassuring him she didn't care about that anymore. She was just happy to be back with him. They stood, forehead to forehead, for a few minutes in silence. They just wanted to soak up the way the other one smelled and felt. Reba was the first one to break the silence. She had something very important to tell Brock.

"I've always loved you." Reba pulled her forehead away to look into his eyes, wanting to see how he felt about her confession. He stared deep into her eyes, the corners of his lips pointing slightly upwards. Reba swallowed the lump in her throat, completely nervous of what he would say.

"It took dying to get you to admit that. I should have known." Brock smile her favorite grin, and kissed her forehead. Reba took a deep breath, almost ready to smack the back of his head from having to wait. Brock chuckled to himself, noticing the small flame in her eyes. "I love you way more though." Reba let out the breath she was holding as she smiled and shook her head. She leaned closer to him, their lips inches apart.

"Honey, that's impossible." Brock smiled at her words before her lips met his in a passionate kiss. They were together after years of playing games and dodging their fears of rejection. Now, in death, they had all the time in the world to be in love and to be best friends. Nothing could come between them again.


End file.
